


The Thrilling Adventures of Wade Wilson and the Winter Soldier

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Just Imagine What He's Going to Wake Up To, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Rogers is Frozen For Most of This, Wade Rescues Bucky From Hydra, Wade Wilson Feels, Wade Wilson's Daughter is a Thing, Wade and Bucky Being Dorks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6181174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, how Deadpool saves Bucky Barnes with pancakes, humor, and the power of absurdity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the most part, this is set in the MCU. It takes place in the year or so before Steve is rescued from the ice. However, Spider-Man and the X-Men are present in-universe, and Wade is characterized based on his recent appearances in comics. Also, this is ninety percent friendship fluff, so... if you want to read about Deadpool turning the Winter Soldier into a giant dork, this is the story for you. If you're looking for a complex plot and depressing angst, I'd search elsewhere.

The Winter Soldier doesn’t think _._ He can analyze his surroundings to determine the best way to eliminate a target, and impressions like _must compensate for broken ankle_ or _left arm requires maintenance_ occasionally run through his head, but it’s all instinct and superficial knowledge and nothing that approaches complex thought.

Currently an impression saying _need sustenance_ niggles at the corners of his brain, along with the awareness that he needs to return to HYDRA in order to fix this. But he _cannot_ return to HYDRA and so he cannot fix it and the lack of an obvious solution makes his head hurt.

He glares at the one called Deadpool. The mercenary had woken him from cryo and cooed, “It’ll be alright, little lab rat” and knocked him out and took him from HYDRA headquarters before he could fight back. Now he’s in the man’s home and knows it’s where he will stay for the time being. He’d already left once, but returning to HYDRA had been impossible. His mind was little more than a blank slate. He knew of no nearby safe-houses, nor of any current means of getting into contact with his handlers. 

By the time Deadpool found him, purposelessness had driven him to the point of malfunction.

Now he’s back in Deadpool’s home, and his head is screaming. In an endless loop, his brain says: _need sustenance, return to HYDRA, need sustenance, return to HYDRA_.  

He does not know how to make it stop.

“Are you sure you don’t know your name?” Deadpool moves a spoon through a bowl of a mysterious white substance. “Because ‘guy with the cute ass’ won’t fly forever. Just sayin’.”

The Soldier stares at the tabletop. “Weapons have no name. Call me what you will.”

“But you are not a gun. You are what you choose to be!” The Soldier frowns. Deadpool ignores this. “ _Anyway_ , how does Cable Junior sound? Or Little Nate? Seeing as you both have shiny metal arms of badassery.” He takes the bowl of white substance and pours a moderate amount into a pan. It sizzles. The Soldier can smell it now. The _need sustenance_ impression becomes stronger.

“That’s why I brought you here, y’know? If it hadn’t been for the arm, I would’ve ditched you after I made the HYDRA base go _boom_. But when I first found you, I thought you were… uh, someone else. But let’s not waste time thinking of silly things like worry and sentiment. You’re broody enough already. No need to make it worse.”

He takes a spatula and flips the odd substance so the other side can cook.

The Soldier’s stomach makes a strange noise. _Need sustenance._

Deadpool transfers the now-cooked batter to a plate. He places a slice of butter on top and drowns it in brown liquid. He then sets the plate in front of the Soldier. The Soldier stares. Deadpool keeps talking.

“Then again, maybe I _shouldn’t_ give you a name. People name stray puppies and chinchillas. Not stray lab rats. I’ll just go with ‘guy with the cute ass’ until you can give me something real to call you.” He looks from the Soldier to his plate and back to the Soldier. “Hey, guy with the cute ass, aren’t you gonna eat your pancake?” 

Eat? HYDRA offered him only nutritional pastes and shakes– all of them tailored to give him the ideal balance of calories and nutrients. Food was unnecessary.

Perhaps Deadpool does not yet know how to handle the Soldier. It would be best to explain, so that he won’t get in trouble later, when Deadpool figures it out.

The Soldier bows his head. “The asset does not eat.” 

Deadpool says nothing for a long time. Already the Soldier knows that Deadpool’s natural state is one of conversation.

The Soldier has done something wrong. He tenses his shoulders and waits for his punishment.

It doesn’t come.

“Maybe you didn’t eat while HYDRA was around to make sure their _asset_ ”—he says the word oddly, in a way that makes the Soldier’s stomach twist, “—was functioning properly, but that no longer applies. C’mon, bro. Enjoy your pancake of happiness and rainbows.”

_Need sustenance._

The Soldier frowns. Deadpool picks a fork off the table and holds it out to the Soldier. After a moment, the Soldier takes it.

“This is not necessary,” he repeats, to make sure Deadpool understands.

Deadpool heaves a sigh. “Dude. Just eat. Seriously.”

He can follow orders. The Soldier cuts a piece off the ‘pancake.’ With Deadpool’s eyes fixed on him, he lifts his fork to his mouth and chews.

His eyes go wide. A noise escapes his throat against his will. Deadpool murmurs something about ‘pornographic’ and ‘sexy as hell,’ but the Soldier ignores him as he slides the plate closer and places his left arm around it to keep Deadpool from snatching it away. With his weak arm, he cuts off another bite and eats that as well, then another and another, relishing the play of sweet and rich and _perfect_ across his tongue.

The impression of _need sustenance_ fades into something that’s more like _getting sustenance_ and his head buzzes pleasantly. Deadpool places more of the white substance in the pan. By the time the Soldier is done with his first ‘pancake,’ another is in front of him.

He takes his fork to it with gusto, and unbidden the **_thought_** rises.

_Pancakes are good._

He nearly chokes on his next bite, but is too involved with eating to dwell on it any further.

Still, some strange impulse has him repeating the thought, just because he can.

_Pancakes are good._

…

The Soldier stares at the piece of plastic in his hands, then looks back up at the flashing screen in front of him. The words MARIO KART are displayed above pictures of a strange looking men and women in odd vehicles.

“If you’re gonna be my roomie, you’re gonna have to know how to play video games,” says Deadpool. “We’ll start with this because it’s super easy. Just think of it like one of those missions you keep talking about. See, you’ve got enemies, and you’ve got weapons that you use to attack those enemies, and your enemies got weapons they’ll use to attack you. And the whole point is to get to the finish line first.”  

The Soldier blinks. “What.”   

“Eh, you’ll see.”

Deadpool presses buttons, and the picture changes. Now the strange characters are displayed in squares across the screen. “Pick your favorite, homie. Just move the stick over the pictures and press the big blue button when the one you want lights up.”

The one he… wants? They look the same to him. He still does not understand why he is doing this, but if the man who made him pancakes says that it is a mission, he will complete it to the best of his ability. He moves the stick and watches the images light up. Over the picture of a green reptilian creature, he presses the button Deadpool indicated. The creature squeaks.

“Ooh, Yoshi. Very smart. Not as cool as Bowser, but I would’ve thrown a fit if you stole Bowser.”

A blue box lights up over the character with the caption ‘Bowser.’ Deadpool presses his own button. The screen changes again. All of the characters are lined up at the starting line of what his brain tells him is a racetrack.

“Press the blue button when you wanna go, and don’t let your guy drive off the track. The green button makes you back up. To turn real sharp, press green and blue at the same time and toggle the stick. Comprende?”

He thinks so.

Numbers appear on screen. 3. 2. 1.

He presses the blue button. ‘Yoshi’ goes.

“See those box thingies?” says Deadpool as the Soldier tries to make his character go in a straight line. “Run through those and you’ll get items. Mushrooms make you go faster. Shells take out the other players. Stars make you strong as fuck, and—” Bowser gets hit by a ‘shell.’ “Oh, go to hell, Peach. Fucking whore.” ‘Bowser’ runs into the female character and pushes her into ‘Yoshi’s’ path. The Soldier grits his teeth. “Anyway,” Deadpool goes on, “press the top right button, and that launches those. There’s other shit too, but I can’t think of everything now. You’ll figure it out.”

Yoshi goes through a box. A red shell comes up. The Soldier presses the top right button.

The shell hits Bowser.

“Oh, it’s _on_ motherfucker,” Deadpool says, but the Soldier hardly hears. His focus is on his mission. The red enemy with the mustache drives past while he is sparkling. He knocks Yoshi over. The Soldier suspects this is the ‘star’ Deadpool mentioned. _I must acquire one._

Instead, he gets lightning when he goes through the next box. He presses the button. The other characters shrink, and when Yoshi runs into them, they become flat.

The Soldier runs over Bowser.

Deadpool growls. “Cocksucking bastard.”

The Soldier leans forward, growing more intent. The number on the top of the screen tells him he is now in second place. The primate enemy is yet ahead of him. The Soldier waits for another row of the supply boxes and swerves to hit one, but his character is knocked out of the way by another shell.

Frustration rises. As though to mock him, the green mustachioed enemy yells, “Yahoo!”

The Soldier slots him as his next target. When he passes through another box, he receives three green shells. The first goes far off track. _Aim the green ones,_ he tells himself—commits it to memory. Next time, he is more careful and his shot hits home.

The Soldier smirks. Someone else’s weapon has taken out the primate. He is now in first place. The screen says there is one lap left, and it is almost finished. The end line is in sight. _Mission nearly finished—_

A blue shell appears and sends his character flying. The Soldier watches in disbelief as Yoshi’s vehicle splutters on the ground. Bowser drives past while Deadpool cackles.

The Soldier finishes fourth. _Mission failure._

His jaw ticks. “ _Again._ ”

“Yeah, yeah. There are four courses per Cup, and we can do as many of those as you want.” Already the screen has changed to a different course. “Not that it’ll make any difference. I am the _master_ at this game.”

Anticipation swells. It is partially the Soldier and partially something (someone?) else.

“We’ll see,” he says. Then the race starts and there is no room for talking.

Three stages, much cursing from Deadpool, and a great deal of effort to keep his left hand from strangling his controller later, Yoshi stands atop the podium and is presented with a trophy. The Soldier stares. A pleasant feeling blooms in his chest.

Deadpool barks a laugh. “That was the most _intense_ round of Mario Kart ever. _Marry me_.”

The Soldier ignores his odd words. He wishes to ask to play another ‘Cup,’ but knows not whether he is allowed to do so. Deadpool does not act like a HYDRA handler, but it is impossible to take that for granted.

He stares at his controller and struggles with himself.

“Another?” says Deadpool.

The Soldier’s lips curve in a strange way.

“Another,” he confirms.


	2. Chapter 2

Deadpool takes care of him. It isn’t something the Soldier realizes immediately, but after five afternoons of eating pancakes and playing Mario Kart, he’s hit by the odd awareness that the loud man in red goes out of his way to _help_ him _._  

He makes sure the Soldier is clean, but he does not strap him to a chair and wash the grime off with a hose as the HYDRA handlers had done. Rather, he leads him to the bathroom and turns on the shower and says, “Wash with the smelly stuff in this bottle, and then put this in your hair and rub and rinse until the bubbles are gone. I even got you L'Oreal, because you're worth it.”  

He also helps the Soldier shave, which is something HYDRA must’ve taken care of while the Soldier was in cryo. They stand side by side in front of the bathroom mirror. Deadpool does one strip of skin for him, then hands the razor to the Soldier and instructs him to do the same. The Soldier thinks of a boy with blond hair and blue eyes and remembers laughter and, _“You’re gonna slit your throat if you don’t steady your hand, Steve,”_ but then Deadpool says, “Can’t have you growing a beard. You’re too pretty to hide your face,” and he snaps back to the present.

Deadpool even feeds him. Pancakes in the morning, sandwiches for lunch, and for the evening meal, Deadpool disappears and returns with paper bags of food. He asks the Soldier what he likes and dislikes, and gives him something called a ‘high five’ when he acknowledges that he enjoys chimichangas the most.

These things seem like a lot when he considers them all at once, and although Deadpool has already stated he took the Soldier into his home because his metal arm resembled “Cable’s”, the Soldier suspects there’s more to it. It doesn’t make sense that Deadpool would choose to spend so much time on him without expecting something in return, and this makes the Soldier nervous.

The question comes out of his mouth before he can help himself. “Do you wish to make me your asset?”

Deadpool looks up from where he’s attempting to peel a “sticker” off a white sheet. He’s spent the past seventeen minutes decorating the Soldier’s arm with bright images. The Soldier allows it, because there's something soothing about watching the cold metal disappear beneath bright colors and happy-looking animals. Deadpool even makes sure to avoid the seams between the metal plates. He understands that unimpaired movement is critical.

At the Soldier’s question, he drops the sheet. “Wanna run that by me one more time?”

“You have been…” He frowns. Searches for a word. It takes longer than it should to find the right one. “ _Kind._ Why?”

Deadpool goes silent for a long time. When he does speak, his voice is even rougher than usual, and oddly quiet. “I can give you an easy answer,” he says, “or I can give you a long, awkward, ugly one. Take your pick.”

“The second one,” the Soldier says. He suspects that by long, awkward and ugly, Deadpool means true _._

“Right.” He picks up the sheet of stickers and fiddles with it. “I guess… Your arm is a helluva lot like Nate’s. All shiny and awesome and whatnot, and I did have a tiny freak out at the HYDRA base when I thought you were him, but that’s only an itty little bit of it. See, I er… I can empathize. Kinda.”  

Empathy implies shared experiences. That is not possible. “You are not an asset.”

“I _was_ ,” Deadpool says.

“Explain.”

Deadpool straightens, his usually loose posture turning very, very tense. “D’you know about cancer?”

“A disease caused by an uncontrolled division of abnormal cells.”

Deadpool puts a purple horse on the Soldier’s arm.

“Yeah. Well, I got it a while back. One of the kinds that no one can treat. The doctor told me I had a few months before I kicked the bucket.” He swallows heavily, throat bobbing beneath his mask. “Then I was approached by these guys from Weapon X. A super soldier program. They said they could make the cancer go away, and I believed them.”

The Soldier’s arm gets a smiley face.

“They… well, they really fucked me up. Used this mutant’s DNA to get me a healing factor, but it works by making new cells _all the time_. Which, y’know… that’s what cancer does. So there are outta control bad cells, and all these good cells being made to replace those, and it’s like a war. With my body as the corpse-filled battlefield.” He doesn’t sound like Deadpool anymore. He’s too serious. Too vulnerable. “Then Weapon X rejected me because… well, that’s a different story. But I got sent to… to hell _._ It was s’posed to be a place for rehabilitation, but the ‘patients’ were used as twisted test subjects. Everyone placed bets on who’d live the longest. Called it the ‘dead pool.’”

 _Oh_.

“Of course the doctors had special fun with me, since they could do whatever they wanted, and I wouldn’t die. It was… It was awful. Drove me crazy. I came close to forgetting who I was. Forgetting what it was like to be a person. Sometimes I’m still not sure I remember.”

He laughs, but it’s a bad sound. “So, yeah... I was Dr. Killebrew’s personal chew toy, sorta like you were HYDRA’s. And I couldn’t just… leave you to that. Not when I know what it’s like.”

The Soldier’s brain buzzes.

His heart hurts.           

He is… he is **_feeling. _** He thinks he is anyway, doesn’t know how else to describe the rush of heat and heaviness and nausea that hits him all at once.

When he speaks, the words that come out of his mouth surprise him. “Deadpool… is not your name. It’s...” A shield. A way to keep people distant. Perhaps even a source of pride? But not _real._

“Nah. Name’s Wade Wilson. S’not a secret, but only a few people actually use it.”

Wade Wilson.

The Soldier thinks of the man who makes him pancakes being tortured and healing and being tortured and healing, and he thinks of people _betting on whether it’ll kill him_ and it’s uncomfortable, thinking so much, but it’s even more uncomfortable imagining his caretaker suffering like that.

“I like Wade,” he says. He repeats it in his head. _I like Wade._ He isn’t only talking about the name.

“Alright then,” Wade says _,_ sounding slightly thrown off.  

The Soldier should say more. He should feel more, and… understand more? What Wade told him is bigger than he can comprehend, and he feels inadequate in his ability to grasp its significance.  

But he is _not enough_ , is not human even though Wade seems to think he might be eventually, and he can only achieve a distant sort of gratitude for Wade’s honesty and a shallow regret for his hurts.

“I wish… it had not happened,” he tries. It’s the best he can do.  

Wade laughs, and this time, it sounds real. “It’s kinda frightening how good you’ve gotta be, you know that? I mean, you’re trying to make me feel better when you’re still neck deep in your own trauma. Makes me wanna hug you. Can I hug you?”

“Hug… me?” But Wade is already right there _,_ arms around the Soldier’s waist. The Soldier sits stiffly until Wade backs away, but the lingering warmth of the contact almost makes the discomfort worth it. It reminds him of the ice melting off of him after being released from cryo. That moment where the absence of cold is as close to beautiful as he can appreciate.

“Now that you’re assured of my good intentions, back to making you pretty,” Wade sing-songs, and it’sso much better than the low, hurting tones he’d been using before. “D’you want the puppy or the kitty?”

…

The Soldier understands very little of what comes out of Wade’s mouth. It is worrying, because there’s always the possibility that important information is going over his head. Wade hasn’t given him any missions, hasn’t tried to utilize him as an asset – and insists he has no intention of doing so – but the Soldier wants to be prepared for the possibility. He is supposed to take orders only from HYDRA, but Wade is an obvious exception. He will listen to whatever Wade asks of him.  

He thinks he might be like a duckling that way. There was a show on Animal Planet one afternoon, and the man speaking said ducklings imprint on the first living creature they see after they hatch. The Soldier saw Wade first after waking from cryo, and while he doesn’t think he’s a Wade Wilson like baby ducks think they are human, he _was_ affected. The part of his brain where there should be only HYDRA has expanded to include Wade as well, and every day he spends in this apartment, away from his handlers, the Wade part gets just a little bigger.

Thus, he worries about his lack of comprehension, because he worries about displeasing Wade.

This is why he starts asking questions.

Wade says _fuck_ whenever Yoshi hits Bowser with a red shell. “What does fuck mean?”

Wade says, “Motherfucker,” when he stabs his toe. The Soldier says, “I think I misunderstood ‘fuck.’”

Wade yelps and says, “No homo!” when he accidentally interrupts the Soldier while he is dressing.

Wade draws numerous diagrams and makes him watch Brokeback Mountain.

There’s more to it than that. Much more.

Wade says, “My dear, I don’t give a damn,” in the middle of a call from a person named Weasel. The Soldier thought ‘dear’ a term of endearment and asks why Wade used it in such a context. He is made to watch _Gone With the Wind._

Wade says, “Use the force, Luke!” while the Soldier is learning to play The Legend of Zelda and struggles to aim the slingshot. The Soldier stares blankly. Zelda is postponed so that they can watch Star Wars—the real films, and not the ‘shitty prequels.’ Star Wars is followed by Pulp Fiction and The Godfather and Silence of the Lambs, and there are television shows mixed in: Golden Girls and Star Trek and Doctor Who and the Simpsons, and it’s _a lot_ , but after a while he begins to understand _._

And the more he understands, the clearer it becomes that lack of insight is not the only reason the Soldier has difficulty following Wade’s speech.

“Why do you talk to yourself?” the Soldier says after he figures it out.

Wade chokes on his spit. “W-what?”

The Soldier had discovered Pop-Tarts that morning and is fascinated by how easily he can prepare them. Tear open the package. Put them in the toaster. Press the button. He’s already had them for breakfast and lunch, and is now making himself four more for his evening meal. Two raspberry and two blueberry.   

The raspberry Pop-Tarts go _pop_. The Soldier removes them from the machine before looking at Wade. He’d spoken clearly and doesn’t see how Wade couldn’t have understood,  but he repeats himself anyway. “Why do you talk to yourself?”  

Wade takes a step backwards. “Isn’t there something you’d like to be watching on Animal Planet?”

The Soldier loves Animal Planet. He watches it whenever Wade doesn’t insist he needs to watch something else. He especially likes the shows where the animal police save abused animals and nurse them back to health. The stories with the sad endings make his eyes leak and his heart hurt, but that’s fine because they still make him feel and he’s started to enjoy feeling _._ He likes the happy stories better, though – likes watching how the animals go from scared and injured to something approaching okay.

Also, there are shows with spiders that eat birds, and giant snakes, and monkeys that throw feces at one another. It’s very entertaining.

Likely, there _is_ something he’d like to watch on Animal Planet. But Wade is changing the subject, and-

_“Steve, you can’t keep taking on guys twice your size. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”_

_“If my own body hasn’t done me in, none of these guys will manage. You need to quit worrying so much.”_

_“Says the bozo with the black eye and the broken ribs. Steve-”_

_“Don’t you have a date tonight? What was this one’s name?”_

-that’s what people do when they don’t want to talk about tough stuff, even if it’s important.

The Soldier frowns, because Wade clearly doesn’t want to talk, and he shouldn’t push Wade, but…

“I’m making Pop-Tarts,” he says. “I will watch Animal Planet later.” Then, in case Wade forgot: “Why do you talk to yourself?”

Wade shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t talk to myself.”

This time, it isn’t an evasion. He seems to be honest, but that doesn’t make sense. “I… do not understand.”

The blueberry Pop-Tarts go _pop._ The Soldier puts them on top of his raspberry Pop-Tarts. He hasn’t touched those ones yet. It doesn’t feel right to start until they’re all there at once. The impulse isn’t logical. Is blatantly _illogical_ , because that means the raspberry ones are a little cold. But some really stupid part of him says the blueberry ones would feel bad about getting left behind.

Since there’s no one around who cares, he does as he pleases.

Wade makes a displeased noise. “There are boxes.”

The Soldier takes a bite of Pop-Tart, but doesn’t look away from Wade. Waits for him to keep talking.

“Yellow and White. They hang around and comment on things. They have since…”

It’s an ambiguous since. It could mean since he received his healing factor or since Dr. Killebrew. Maybe even after. But the point is clear: since the _bad stuff_ started happening. Trauma can result in that kind of thing. That’s common enough knowledge that even the Soldier is aware of it.

He doesn’t like it. “You have eliminated those responsible?”

Wade doesn’t say anything for a moment, then manages, “Yeah. The biggest bastards are dead.” He clears his throat. “Aren’t you freaked out by the crazy?”

The Soldier pokes at a Pop-Tart. “Your question confuses me.”

“It doesn’t bother you that I’m nuts?” Wade clarifies.

“No, not – I understood the meaning of your words. I simply do not comprehend why I would be ‘freaked out.’”

“I’m _insane_.”

He furrows his brow. “You see boxes. That is not insanity. It is… troubled.”

“But you’re not troubled that I’m troubled?” he presses, now a little frantic.

A strange noise bursts from the Soldier’s lips. _A laugh._ “You think _I_ would have a problem?”

Wade looks thrown off for a second, but then he laughs too. “Oh, hey, that’s… that’s a very good point. Kinda forgot that I’m not the only one who’s completely Fruit Loops around here.” Another laugh. “You don’t care. You’re not gonna get all judgy?”

“Of course not,” the Soldier says. Then: “Animal Planet?”

Wade balks. “Don’t push it, bub. I’d been _stalling._ I don’t actually wanna watch meerkats run around and make squeaky noises.”

The Soldier frowns at his Pop-Tarts. “I like the meerkats.”

“We can watch Batman Begins. It’s ve-ry cool, and Christian Bale has a great ass.”

He says nothing. Keeps his gaze on his plate. He won’t argue with Wade. It’s Wade’s house and he’s the Soldier’s… the Soldier’s caretaker, and-

“I need to get you goggles or something,” Wade mutters. “Your eyes, man. You’re a terrifying metal-armed assassin _puppy_.”

The Soldier does not know why, but Wade allows him to watch Animal Planet after that.

…

The Soldier has been with Wade for nearly three weeks when someone knocks on the door. He and Wade are at the kitchen table, sharpening Wade’s impressive array of knives. The Soldier grabs a throwing knife with each hand and retreats to the far corner of the room (where he has the best angle of attack and is least likely to be seen), while Wade keeps the one that he is holding.

“I’m trying to be a hero now,” Wade says, “and it wouldn’t look good if my ex-HYDRA assassin roomie kills someone, so hold off unless I’m incapacitated and it looks like they’re gonna steal the TV. Comprende? “

“Yeah,” he lies. He won’t let it get as far as Wade being incapacitated.

Wade opens the door in the stupidest way possible, throwing it back all at once, not bothering to check that the person on the other side is a friendly. Then again, a man who cannot die is able to get away with carelessness.

Thankfully (for the intruder), Wade’s healing factor is not necessary. A hairy man with no neck steps into the apartment, grabs Wade by the fabric at the neck of his suit ( _hostile, be ready to engage_ ) and pushes him backwards, face twisted in an ugly scowl. “Wilson. What – the – fuck?”  

“Logan! Long time no see.” The Soldier relaxes at Wade’s lack of concern. Not a hostile. An… ally, with whom Wade is on currently unfriendly terms.

“You refused to debrief after you blew up that HYDRA base,” Logan growls, “and then you _fell off the map_. This, three days after you ‘promised’ you’d do whatever I say if I start giving you ‘hero approved jobs.’ There’s a reason the first twenty people you asked didn’t take you up on that offer, and we both know I wasn’t exactly confident, but _three fucking days?”_

Wade winces, but he holds up his hands as though to profess innocence. He has not yet put down his knife, so it works very poorly. “Uh, funny story, but you’ve got it all wrong. I’m even being honest when I say that! Promise.”

“If you didn’t fuck up, you wouldn’t be in… in who’s damn apartment is this?”

“It’s mine,” he says defensively. “I do have solid aliases, and hidey places to go when people wanna try to kill me, and all those other things the ‘boring’ mercenaries have-“

“ _Regardless_ , you wouldn’t be hiding here without a reason, and there’s only one reason I can think of. If you’re taking jobs again, I’ll slice out your guts and hang you with them.”

Wade laughs. “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Three times. Seven and a half if you count getting my guts cut out sans hanging… Actually, add in boring old hangings and it’s nineteen. As far as motivating threats go, I’d give it a six overall. That’s a poor effort on your part.”

“Maybe I can try harder, just for you,” the man snarls. He sounds like a wild animal.

The Soldier shifts his stance, fingers closing more tightly around the knife in his strong hand. Circuits in the arm whir almost silently, but-

Logan _hears_ and his attention is on the Soldier in an instant.

Wade straightens. “Ah, see. Him right there, he’s totally the reason I ran off after the HYDRA thing. You can come out, bestie! Logan won’t hurt you. He’s family-”

“Having my DNA does _not_ mean you’re related to me.”

“Sure thing, Daddy.”

The Soldier steps forward, though he doesn’t loosen his grip on his knives.

“HYDRA was keeping him frozen in a tube,” Wade says. “I don’t know what they did to him, but it must’ve been awful. He called himself an asset and a weapon for the first week, and he had no idea that he needed to eat or wash or- or anything. I wanted to make sure I got him to being at least a little alright before I let anyone know he’s here.”

Logan doesn’t say anything for a very long time. When he does speak, his eyes don’t leave the Soldier even though he speaks to Wade. “They were using him as… an assassin?”

“Seems like. I don’t know for sure. They made his memories go bye-bye after every mission. There was nothing in there when he first woke up.”

“No name?”  

“Nah, and I haven’t given him one. Would’ve felt too much like naming a stray puppy, y’know? Anyway, his real one will come back before long. He’s already acting all humany again, and I’m sure the memories will return soon.”

Statements like that are the reason he now thinks of himself as Wade’s instead of HYDRA’s. Sometimes there are even moments where he doesn’t feel like someone else’s at all, where he feels like he is his own self, and that’s because of Wade too.

He is not… _humany_ , not yet, but he has reached the point where he thinks he might want to be.

It’s enough to make him speak up. “I’m fine here.”

Logan regards the Soldier with surprise, but Wade doesn’t shift at all. He’d already known.

“You sure he’s not making himself your new master?” Logan says.

“He does not give me missions,” the Soldier says, confused.

“No tasks either? Doesn’t make you bring him shit or clean the house?”

“I clean because the premises smells if I do not. Wade has no opinion on the matter.”

Logan opens his mouth to say something else, but the Soldier already knows he won’t like what it’ll be. He tries to think quickly, to bring to mind words to make the other man stand down, and he’s surprised when a clear answer comes to him almost immediately, days of watching movies and TV having familiarized him with the term enough that he believes he can use it with accuracy.

“He’s my friend.”

 _Now_ Wade turns his head, nearly stumbling from the abrupt movement. The Soldier wonders whether maybe he’d misunderstood the word, but before he can ask, Wade is looking at Logan again. When he speaks, his voice is happy enough that the Soldier knows he’s said something right. “Yeah, Logan. See? I don’t mess _everything_ up.”

Logan frowns. “What’s Wilson done to convince you he's your friend?”

“He let me watch Animal Planet instead of Batman.” There’s a longer list, but that’s what comes to mind first.  

“You like Animal Planet?”

“It’s my favorite,”   

“He also likes the Golden Girls,” Wade pipes up.

“They are… funny,” the Soldier agrees, hoping that he’s correctly determined the adjective’s meaning. “Although I do not share Wade’s desire to ‘bang’ Bea Arthur.”

Logan coughs.  

“Only because HYDRA might as well have neutered you for how into sex you are right now,” Wade says, patting him on the metal arm. “I’m sure you’ll realize what I’m talking about when your libido comes back.”

The Soldier frowns, tensing even though he doesn’t know why. For some reason he feels _defensive_ , his cheeks hot with… embarrassment? He has no idea why he’d react like this to what he assumes is teasing, but Wade’s words awaken something inside of him that comes bursting to the surface before he can stop it. “I think about sex,” he snaps. “Just not with saggy old women.”

Wade splutters indignantly. Even Logan doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. There’s a long stretch of silence until Wade finally recovers. “We’ll be discussing your slander of Bea Arthur later, but right now, I’ve gotta know: the sex is with me, isn’t it?”

This feels familiar, the words coming almost too easy. “Was thinking more along the lines of that Vivien Leigh dame. You’re not really my type.”

“Do I talk too much?”

“You have a dick.”

Logan clears his throat. “I’m gonna leave you two to it… Wilson, this _doesn’t_ make up for your disappearance, but I’ll refrain from maiming you.”

“Yay!” He pauses, then adds with (poorly) feigned casualty, “You won’t take away my bestie?”

“Not as of now,” Logan says. He looks at the Soldier. “You, don’t feel compelled to stay. Wilson might’ve helped you, but that doesn’t mean he owns you.”

“I like it here,” the Soldier says.

“Where else have you been since he rescued you?”

The Soldier cannot answer.

“You need to get out more.” He looks at Wade. “And you need to _let him_. Don’t have to be a shrink to know you shouldn't keep him holed up in your shitty apartment all the time.”

Wade makes a troubled noise. “I’m not holding him hostage.”

“Didn’t say you were. Just give him some air.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’ll be back to check on… this, in a couple weeks. Wilson?”

“Wolvie?”

“This is me, giving you a second chance at a mission. Don’t fuck it up.”

Logan pauses a moment to let that sink in, then leaves without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote this as a pick-me-up to distract me from an angstier fic I have in the works. It's fairly coherent considering I hadn't intended to publish it, but I gave a slice of pop-culture a larger place in this chapter than I might've if I'd been considering whether the average reader would understand it. If you're familiar with the plot for Pokemon Black/White, great. If not, you should be able to figure out what's going on through context. Barring that, I'd google anything that doesn't make sense. Sorry for any confusion. 
> 
> Hope you guys like the chapter.

After Logan’s visit, Wade gets into an argument with his voices about someone named Blind Al. He goes on about how this isn’t at all like that, and how even Logan was convinced by the end, and he shouldn’t let the man’s initial doubts upset him.

Eventually he shouts, “I’ll prove it!” and tells the Soldier they’re going on a walk, outside, and that if there’s anyone the Soldier wishes to talk to, he can go right ahead, and he can leave if it wants as well, because “I _haven’t_ kidnapped you, or threatened you, and I only watched you sleep that one time.”

It’s strange. Very strange. But the Soldier isn’t opposed to going outside, so he says nothing.

“Now that you’re not a menace to society, I figure you oughta get out of your cute little hermit shell,” Wade says as they start down the street, doing a remarkable job at sounding reasonable for someone who’d just spent twenty minutes trying to convince imaginary boxes he hadn’t kidnapped a world-class assassin.

The Soldier eyes him, but Wade continues chattering obliviously, going on about the benefits of social interaction and how the Soldier needs to learn how to play nice with others. He doesn’t have his suit on, and it’s strange hearing Wade’s voice come out of anything other than a red mask. Even stranger because Wade is wearing an image inducer. Wade pulls up the bottom of his mask to eat, so the Soldier has seen his scars. From what he’s inferred from Wade’s story of Weapon X, they likely cover his whole body. Now his skin is smooth, his hair thick and golden, eyes bright blue.

It’s unsettling. He doesn’t look like Wade. He looks like a man in a movie. An _actor._ His smile is not right.

The Soldier would prefer Wade not wear it. He’s used to Wade in the suit, has started thinking of him only in terms of red and black with no features except flashing eyes and a mouth barely visible through the fabric, but even the scars would be better. They would be real.

But Wade can’t wear his suit outside without drawing attention, and his scars would be just as memorable. That other part of the Soldier, the one that’s gone from being a distant presence in the background to something that’s started bleeding into his self, suspects Wade is also self-conscious. The Soldier can’t grasp why, thinks it has something to do with scars marking him as traditionally unattractive, but the idea of Wade feeling that way doesn’t sit right.

_“This is your friend?”_

_His arm is around his dame’s shoulder – Laura, Laurie, Lauren… hell, it could be Sarah for all he remembers – but he lets it fall so he can go to Steve’s side. “Is that a problem?”_

_Laura/Laurie/Lauren’s friend can’t quite look him in the eye. “He’s not very attractive, is he?”_

_He reminds himself it’s never acceptable to hit a dame. “Why, I oughta-”_

_“It’s alright,” Steve cuts in. He’s hunched in on himself, eyes on the ground, sharp shoulder blades visible through the thin fabric of his shirt. They jut out of his back like a baby bird’s. “It has to be disappointing-”_

_He sneers at Laura/Laurie/Lauren and her friend. “Oh, it’s disappointing all right. I thought I had better taste than this. C’mon, Steve. I can feel myself getting stupider just looking at these broads.”_

“Yo, bestie. You in there?”

The Soldier realizes Wade is staring. “Yeah. I’m…” He swallows thickly. “You don’t gotta wear that, y’know. The image inducer.”

Wade freezes up like the Soldier’s just pulled a gun on him. “Image inducer?”

“You’ve usually got scars.” The Soldier gestures to his chin and throat. “Here. Probably everywhere.”

Wade trips over his own feet. The Soldier’s left hand fastens around his forearm to steady him, and while he can’t feel enough of the texture to tell him whether the skin projected by the image inducer is a lie, the millimeter of space above Wade’s arm where the illusion of smooth skin creeps over the metal of his hand confirms what touch can’t.

Wade follows his gaze and pulls back like he’s been burnt.

_He runs his fingers over Steve’s bruised-up chest, and Steve tenses up, cheeks pink, eyes downcast. “I’m fine. Really.”_

_“I can’t even touch your ribs without you gettin’ all fidgety. You can’t tell me you’re not hurt.”_

_“It’s not that,” Steve says, not looking at him as he crosses the room to pick up a clean shirt. “I’d just rather-”_

_“You’re… you’re being self-conscious!” he splutters. “God, Steve. Do you really think so little of me, that you expect I’d care?”_

“God, Wade. Do you really think so little of me, that you expect I’d care?”

“I-”

_“What? No. And I’m not – I’m not self-conscious. It’s just, most people…” _

_“Well, most people are morons. I don’t give a hoot that you’re scrawny, and it’s kinda insulting that you’re trying to hide it now. You think I haven’t noticed before?”_

“I don’t give a hoot about your scars, and it’s kinda insulting that you’re trying to hide them now. You think I haven’t noticed before?”

Wade blinks with blue eyes, his blond hair bright in the sunlight. “Er…”

Something clicks, and the Soldier’s stomach turns to lead at the realization. “That’s why you never take the suit off.”

“It’s okay, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Wade says, either to Yellow or White. “I think he’s confused-”

“I’m gonna sock you in the face, bozo.”

“Yeah. Definitely confused. He wouldn’t be this talkative otherwise. He’s never this talkative. And he said ‘bozo.’ What kind of assassin says ‘bozo?’” He laughs uncomfortably. “Ha. Good point, White. The kind of assassin who thinks he wants to see skin that looks like rotting meat. A _crazy_ one. Damn. I knew I wasn’t a good influence.”

The Soldier ignores him. “You’re gonna stop wearing the suit when we’re in the apartment-” Wade opens his mouth, but the Soldier cuts him off. “ _And_ the inducer. You can hide from strangers, but give me more credit than to think I give a shit.”

“But-“

“I’ve got a metal arm. With a kitten sticker that won’t come off.”

“But it’s sexy,” says Wade, and at least he’s talking to the Soldier instead of his boxes. “My scars aren’t sexy.”

“That’d be a concern if I was looking to date you. And if I were a shallow jerk.”

“I liked you better when you didn’t talk. You’re becoming a smartass. And making uncomfortable demands. And… and _stuff_.”

Is this teasing? The Soldier falters, wondering whether he should stop pushing, but he’s pretty sure that he – or something more than he, something that’s not just the Soldier but the Soldier plus that other part of him, the part that’s present in the memories with Steve – _is_ pushy. And that is… okay. Pushy is part of his personality, and personalities are things humans have.

Being more human is a good thing.  

He ignores the urge to shut his mouth. “I’m not asking anything unreasonable.”

“Are too.”

He refuses to reply with ‘are not,’ no matter how badly the words want to fall off his tongue. “Give me a chance.”

There’s a very long pause, but finally Wade sighs, the sound so fearful it makes the Soldier’s heart clench. “I’ll show you when we get home.”

The Soldier agrees to these terms.

This is a mistake. Wade takes him to a bus stop and says, “I totally forgot, but we need to go shopping. You need… new clothes, which hey. That’s the best kind of excuse because it’s totally true, since I’m sick of you borrowing mine, you miserable freeloader. And jeez, the new Pokemon game just came out and we need copies, and I’ll need to get you a DS, and goodness. It’s a good thing I thought of this just right now in the middle of our walk.”

He has a point about the clothes. The Soldier hasn’t paid much attention to what Wade has given him to wear, but he supposes having things of his own is better than borrowing Wade’s. Also, while he doesn’t know what ‘Pokemon’ means, it can’t be so bad if it’s a game. He likes games.

“Okay,” he says, figuring they’ll get back to the apartment sooner or later.

It ends up being later.

Wade actively stalls, but The Soldier, for all that he hates the crowds and the people and the sudden sensory overload, isn’t entirely loathe to let him. Turns out, he likes shopping.

It’s hard at first. Not just because he’s uncomfortable, but because Wade does it wrong. He sees something he likes and picks it up without even glancing at the price, and the Soldier tenses every single time.

“Are you sure we can afford that?” he asks.

“I’m filthy rich, bestie. We can get whatever you want.”

But… “I don’t need a sombrero.”

And then again later: “I don’t need a wool scarf.”

And: “I don’t need a tuxedo.”

Wade gets them anyway. He gets the Soldier a _lot_ of stuff he doesn’t need, and eventually the Soldier stops arguing and just goes along with it.  

That’s the point when it becomes fun. He gets a few jackets because he likes the way the loose fabric hides his arm, and he picks up an armful of hoodies for the same reason. Then Wade insists he purchase more t-shirts than he could possibly have a use for. There’s one with a Yoshi the Soldier insists on buying, and Wade grabs him a dozen others, including one with ‘Iron Man’ on it, and another with a star in a circle.

The Soldier stares at that one for a long time, and for some reason he thinks _Steve._ Which is absurd, unless maybe Steve was very patriotic. He shakes his head and tries to focus. Wade has already moved on to the dress shirts, and the Soldier says, “ _Why_?” and Wade says, “Sometimes you just wanna look pretty.”

“You’re worse than a damned girl,” the Soldier says. He doesn’t know where the words come from. Or, he supposes, he knows they come from him. But it’s weird, this more human part of himself gaining substance, getting enough footing to speak.   

Wade smacks him on the back of the head. The Soldier elbows him in the ribs. It's nice.

When they’re finished getting clothes, Wade carrying all the Soldier’s bags because he’s a ‘proper gentleman (the Soldier snorts at that one), they go to a place called ‘Walmart’ and Wade picks up the ‘Pokemon’ games and gets the Soldier a ‘DS.’

The Soldier by that point knows he should be prompting Wade to get home and make him be sensible about his scars, but Wade tugs him towards the food and he gets distracted.

“This is an awful lot,” the Soldier says. He distantly recalls the feeling of his gut being caved in, of going without food because Steve was so damned sickly and needed it that much more. The comparative overabundance of Walmart’s market section overwhelms him.

He isn’t sure if he’s gone to heaven, or if he wants to start screaming and knocking everything over because all this excess is disgusting.

While he's chewing this over, Wade holds up a box that says _Eggo_.

“If Pop-Tarts and pancakes had a baby,” he says, “Eggo Waffles would be it.”

The Soldier chokes on his spit trying not to laugh, and it’s too hard to keep being serious about things after that. He can’t bring himself to add anything to the cart, however – at least until they reach the section with fruits and vegetables.

“Really,” Wade says when he sees the Soldier’s interest. “You like… healthy food. Shoot me now.”

Having lived with Wade for the greater part of a month, he understands why the man would find this offensive. His diet typically consists of a) what’s easiest, b) what’s greasiest, and c) pancakes.

The Soldier acknowledges that all three things are indeed wonderful, but probably not ideal for keeping his body in anything near peak condition. Also, he likes strawberries. Wade hasn’t given him strawberries and while he’s had strawberry Pop-Tarts, they don’t count. He simply knows that he likes strawberries.

“These,” the Soldier says. He hands Wade three cartons. Then he sees grapes, and apples, and pears, and _I like fruit._

The person he was before he became the Winter Soldier rarely got fruit. It was too expensive, not filling enough, and it didn’t keep well enough for buying it to be worth it. Besides, Steve was sick so damned often. If one of them got fruit, it was him.  

But the Winter Soldier’s body _loves it._

“I want one of everything,” the Soldier says.

Wade shrugs, and starts tossing stuff in the cart.

Wade, though strong, isn’t able to carry everything when they’re finished. The Soldier ends up taking the Walmart bags while Wade hangs onto the clothes, and even Wade knows better than to suggest they go somewhere else because they don’t have the hands for it. Also, the Soldier is getting tired in a way that doesn’t have anything to do with wanting to sleep, and Wade sees that too. He stops expecting answers back when he talks, and the Soldier stops giving them. All the words and uncharacteristically smooth turns of phrase that showed up in his earlier conversations disappear, and he can’t quite manage to get them back.

“I’m sorry,” Wade says as they shuffle into the apartment. He sounds sad and sincere and the Soldier almost falls over because _this isn’t like him_. “I shouldn’t have had you out that long your first time, but I was scared and-”

“S’fine.” The Soldier takes his bags to the kitchen and starts putting stuff away. Wade disappears to shove the other bags somewhere. He stays disappeared. Hiding out. The Soldier finishes storing the food in only a few minutes, but leaves out a carton of strawberries. He dumps them in a bowl, then heads to the living room couch and sprawls out across the cushions.

Because his head still feels close to exploding, he doesn’t call for Wade. He turns on Animal Planet and relaxes into his seat when he sees that the meerkats are on. He likes the meerkats.

The Soldier eats strawberries and watches the meerkats and lets all the tiredness seep away. By the time the show has switched to a man named Steve Irwin (who the Soldier likes, but Wade says died from a stingray attack), he has calmed enough to call for Wade.

Wade comes right away. The Soldier can hear him, even though Wade stays out of sight. Likely, he’s taken off his image inducer and has not covered himself with the suit.

“Remember when we watched _Phantom of the Opera?”_ Wade says.

“The one where the guy had a bad sunburn?”

Wade laughs, but nervously. “ _That_ was funny. Wow. You’re becoming likable. I’ll be hurt if you leave now that you’re getting over your broody scary phase. Just so you know.”

“Not going anywhere.”

“I had to leave a restaurant one time because I was upsetting the customers. I wouldn’t speak too soon.”

The Soldier suddenly wants very much to shoot someone.

He tries to calm his breathing. “Don’t know much about who I am, but I’m not that particular brand of bastard. Trust me.”

“Alright then,” says Wade, and he steps forward.

The Soldier _stares._ His heart hurts. He can’t speak, but the urge to shoot someone has turned into the urge to shoot everyone, because those aren’t scars in the sense that they’re markings left from old injuries. They’re… they’re _raw_. Marks that still clearly hurt, and he’s been keeping them covered and that can’t make it any better, and the Soldier hadn’t noticed, and god. It must hurt Wade to live.

The Soldier thinks of how Wade described what happened with his healing factor. Cancer making cells that try killing him, and the healing factor making different cells to compensate.

He can see that playing out. Skin shifting. Changing.

The Soldier has been conditioned not to feel pain, but he feels it now. For Wade, if not for himself.

“Soooo…” Wade says. His face looks real now. No more fakeness. “Surprise!”

His eyes say he’s terrified of what the Soldier is going to do, and- and his whole body has to hurt, and he’s freaking insane, but he makes himself smile and says ‘Surprise!’ with a laugh in his voice. He’s psychotic and he talks too much and he has the worst fucking mood swings, but he’s also amazing and the Soldier’s eyes start leaking.  

No. It’s not leaking. He’s crying _._                                                 

“See? _See?_ I make people cry!” Wade says, the laughter gone, voice going hysterical. “I’m so ugly I made an assassin-”

“Oh, shut up, you damned drama queen. It’s not – it’s just-” There’s only one way to say it, masculine pride be damned. “You’re kinda remarkable.”

Wade stares. His eyes water, but he turns away with a huff and says, “You’re telling me I bought you all that shit for nothing?”

“You were trying to _bribe me_?”

“Only ‘cause I love you.”

“You’re a punk, y’know that? A fucking punk.”

“I need to start censoring the movies I let you watch. You’re picking up some pretty nasty fucking language.”

For a moment there’s a phantom impression of tugging on his ear and the taste of soap in his mouth, but it’s gone before he can think on it too much. He clears his throat. “Don’t blame the movies. It’s Mario Kart’s fault. Now be quiet. I like listening to this guy talk. He’s got a cool accent.”

Wade beams as he plots down on the far side of the couch. “Ay, ay, mate.”

He throws his scarred feet into the Soldier’s lap, because it’s _Wade_ and he doesn’t ‘believe in personal space,’ and just like that everything is back to normal.

…

Wade shows him how to play Pokemon the next day.

The Soldier is addicted within ten minutes. Wade talks about natures and how he doesn’t have to train the weak ones he catches at the start because better options come along later on, but the Soldier takes the first six Pokemon he catches and names all of them after people he likes on TV. He doesn’t get any more after that.

“I don’t want them to feel like assets,” he says when Wade asks.

He is being illogical. He waits for Wade to point this out, to tell him that they are not real, but Wade gets it. “Just as long as you don’t judge me for being the psycho bad guy who abuses my team relentlessly, I am totally okay with that.”

He doesn’t care what Wade does with his team. The Soldier is only concerned about his own _._ He trains them for hours at a time so that he doesn’t have to worry about his Pokemon fainting. He nearly has a heart attack the first time one of them does, thinking it means the creature is out of the game forever. Wade clears it up, but the experience isn’t one he wants to repeat.

After that, he spends longer than he should researching gym leaders on Wade’s laptop before he faces them. He looks at every Pokemon his opponent will use and analyzes the type advantages, and comes up with elaborate strategies before each battle.

He starts referring to his rival as “that asshole” after Cheren knocks out his Dewott, but he likes N from the start. At first it’s because the guy wants to release everybody’s Pokemon because he thinks they’re being treated as assets, but as the game progresses, his fondness for the character becomes something more than that. He likes N’s funny speaking patterns. The way there are little things he doesn’t seem to understand. His slow realization that something is _off_ with his goals, and his trouble deviating from his programmed mission despite that.

Then the Soldier reaches the last part of the game. His eyes go wide as he reads the dialogue leading up to N’s battle with Ghetsis, and the subsequent revelation that N was Ghetsis’s asset.

N caused damage when he was told he was helping the world. He was lied to by someone who made him feel important, and he did things he never would’ve done otherwise because of it. He… he was brainwashed, and he fought for the wrong side because it was all he knew how to do.

It’s as the Soldier starts getting angry on N’s behalf that it hits him.

HYDRA was to him what Ghetsis was to N. HYDRA was the bad guy. HYDRA brainwashed him. They used him. They made him do awful things. Things he hadn’t thought of as awful before, not until now, when his brain makes the leap from ‘those trainers must’ve been hurt when N took their Pokemon’ to ‘those families must’ve been hurt when I murdered their loved ones.’

As soon as the thought connects, as soon as his superficial recognition that he’d done things morally wrong shifts to a deep-down realization that _god, I killed people,_ he can’t escape the knowledge. Can’t slip back into that blissful state of robotic obliviousness, because he is a murderer and that _is not okay._

Murderer isn’t a strong enough word. Not for someone who couldn’t give his victims the courtesy of remembering, who eliminated them without caring any more than if he were squashing bugs. He doesn’t know how many he’s killed, but he can feel that it’s a lot. Can’t ignore how the shadow of dozens of missions are suddenly pressing in on him.  

Because he’s a selfish bastard, he’s also humiliated by how HYDRA used him. How he let them take his humanity, his free will, his _everything_ , so he forgot how to even function without them _._ He thinks of the point in the Pokemon game when he’d walked into that toy room in Team Plasma’s castle. The caption said the stuff had been recently played with, even though it was little kid stuff and N was a teenager. The Soldier had been embarrassed on N’s behalf.

He’s floored by the realization he was no different when Wade found him. He was little more than a child in an adult’s body, needing help with every little thing, unable to understand concepts that any basic human being should know instinctively.

His hands shake as he closes the game and sets it aside. As soon as it’s out of his hands, he’s curling in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his shins so tightly he can feel his metal arm bruise the bone. Tears run down his face, no matter how hard he tries to convince his body it has no right to cry.

Idiot.

He is such an idiot.

Useless.  

Pathetic.

He let HYDRA turn him into their _pet._

“Bestie?”

Wade stands in front of him, wearing an absurd pair of pajamas with feet, a stuffed bear dangling from one hand. The Soldier realizes he’s started making a high-pitched keening noise. He probably woke up his friend.

It’s late. He’d stayed awake to finish the game. Wade should still be sleeping.

He’s being a nuisance.

Wade’s eyes go big, but he doesn’t yell like the Soldier deserves. He just sits next to him, the soft fleece of his pajamas warm against his human arm. “You got the guilt back, huh?”         

The Soldier nods.

Wade looks down at his hands. “With my head being like it is, I usually don’t care about the people I’ve killed. But there are times when I cross a line, or something serious happens, or I’m having a ‘good day,’ and my brain goes quieter than usual, and… and all the darkness, and self-hatred that I usually ignore hits me all at once, and it feels like it’s gonna destroy me _.”_

The Soldier needs a while to work up to speaking, but he manages eventually. “How d’you make it go away?”

“I laugh,” he says. “When you’re confronted with a horrible situation, you can cry, or you can laugh. Crying hurts, but laughter is like nature’s anesthesia. It makes the pain less painful.”

That… that explains everything about Wade.

The Soldier isn’t Wade.

“Don’t feel like laughing.”

“Give it a bit.” Wade pauses, then adds reluctantly, “Doing good stuff helps too, I guess. That’s why I keep blabbering about wanting to be a hero. To… to balance all the icky bad things I’ve done. But I can never stick with it. I’m never sure what to do, and sometimes I just… forget myself.”   

“Sounds tough.”

Wade shrugs. “I find that the Trix Rabbit approach to goodness works best. You’ve seen the commercials, right?”

He nods. He always feels bad for the rabbit.

“Goodness is the cereal. Life is the kids. We’re the rabbit, bro. We’ve gotta keep chasing the Trix.”

It seems as good an idea as any. Even with his heart hurting and his brain not functioning very well, he recognizes this as one of Wade’s moments of unlikely wisdom.

“There’s two rabbits now,” the Soldier says, voice still hoarse. “Maybe they can team up. Beat up the kids, and steal the cereal.”

Wade flutters nonexistent lashes. “I like the way you think, bestie. Can I hug you?”

“No.”

Wade hugs him.

The Soldier can’t find it in himself to push him away.

…

The Soldier stares at Wade’s bear.

Wade left it on the couch after he went back to sleep. The Soldier stayed in the living room and watched Animal Planet. He didn’t realize the bear was still there until he got up to attempt to sleep himself.  

It’s a funny bear. Red nose. White eyes rimmed in black, and wearing a blue and red suit. It’s worn, too. Like Wade has had it for a long time.

The bear makes him think of his new t-shirt. The one with the star and the shield. It makes him think of Steve. It makes him think of the shadow of a person that still lurks in the back of his head. The self he’d lost when he became the Winter Soldier _._

He’s been thinking of too much the last few days. His brain hurts. His heart is tired.         

He drops the bear and heads for his bedroom.  

Maybe he’ll ask about it later. When he doesn’t feel so close to breaking.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“So…” Wade says one morning.

The Soldier frowns. Wade looks nervous. He hasn’t looked nervous since he showed the Soldier his scars. It’s worrying. Hopefully it doesn’t have anything to do with more emotional baggage. Between the two of them, the Soldier is surprised they haven’t already suffocated from the angst in the apartment. They don’t need more. He can’t stand more.  

Also, he _will_ go on a killing spree if he hears about Wade having to deal with any more crap. Or well, he’ll at least bust some kneecaps, since he’s joined Wade’s recovering-killers club. Wade insists they should call themselves Assassins Anonymous. It’s clever enough the Soldier occasionally refers to them as such in his head, although never out loud. Wade would probably make t-shirts if he knew the Soldier liked the name.

“So,” the Soldier says, in the same tone Wade had used. He’s become something of a smartass. He blames Wade. “You sound serious. Tell me it’s not because you’re gonna share something depressing. Haven’t even had pancakes yet. Can’t handle depressing before pancakes.”

“It’s not depressing. It’s good, actually. The one wholly good thing I’ve ever had.”

His voice is too soft. It’s scary.  

Wade makes it scarier. “I have a daughter.”

A _daughter._

The Soldier throat swells with emotion. Wade having a daughter is kind of amazing.

He doesn’t want to look like a sap, so he doesn’t say this out loud.

“Could’ve sworn that someone somewhere would’ve made a law saying you couldn’t reproduce.”

“Silence, peaches. The world would be a better place with lots of little Deadpools.” His grin goes dopey. “Especially if they’re all like Ellie. She’s… she’s great.”  

He’s never heard Wade talk like this before. “Sounds like it.”

“I want you to meet her.”

_Fuck no._

“Wade,” he says slowly, because he can see that this is a sensitive topic. “I am _dangerous._ I couldn’t, I mean, what if-”

“You’ve been here for weeks. I trust you. Since you came to that Pokemon-triggered epiphany, I trust you even more. Hell, you’ve probably got a more stable grasp on right and wrong than I do at this point. You’re hella scary when you wanna be, but you’re… you’re decent.”

He’s too amazed to argue that last statement. 

Wade trusts him. With his daughter’s life. His precious daughter’s precious life.

Holy shit. 

“This is _crazy_.”

“Buddy _, y_ ou’re my bro. That makes you her uncle. Uncles need to know their nieces. Especially badass ones like you. You could totally be the assassin version of Uncle Jesse on Full House. You’ve got the longish hair and the nice ass and you even get a tacky accent sometimes.”

He is _not_ getting warm inside. Not even a little.   

“Tell me she lives in Antarctica or something. Somewhere it’ll take forever to get to.”

“She lives in Brooklyn.”

The apartment they’ve been living in is in Buffalo. Not even a full day’s drive. “Oh.”

“Um, also… Ikindathinkweshouldmovethere.”

“What.”

“I already have a house right near where she lives, and other than it being shoot-myself-in-the-head dull, the reason I haven’t been living there permanently – other than you, I mean – is because I’m a wee bit of a menace. But I’ve been getting better. I did good with you, right? I didn’t mess this up? This isn’t… this isn’t like Al?”  

He doesn’t know Al, but he shakes his head. “Nah. You’ve done good. This isn’t like Al.”

He nods, but looks relieved. He really hadn’t known. Hadn’t trusted himself enough to be sure.

“Right. Good.” A deep breath. “Anyway, there’s that – me trusting myself a little, ‘cause of you. Plus it’d be good for you. Meeting new people. Living in a house. Having responsibilities.”

The Soldier isn’t sure about this. He’s been in this apartment since Wade rescued him. He’s also not confident in his ability to live near Wade’s daughter and not screw things up. He isn’t confident in his ability to interact with people and not screw things up.

But Wade wants him to try, and he owes his friend that much. 

“Plus,” Wade adds, “there are _heroes_ in New York. I could introduce you to Spiderman. Maybe he could give us tips on how to be good.”

The Soldier doesn’t know “Spiderman,” but there’s something in Wade’s voice when he talks about him. Like when people on TV talk about gods. Spiderman must be special. And the Soldier does want to be good. If Spiderman knows how, the advice would be welcome.   

Still…

“This is kinda sudden, isn’t it?”

“Sudden decisions are the best decisions.”

“If you say so.” He refrains from saying that trusting Weapon X to cure his cancer was a sudden decision. It’s too mean, even if it’s true. Besides, the Brooklyn idea isn’t bad.

_Brooklyn._

There’s something about Brooklyn…

He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath.

“I need pancakes,” he says, and starts to make some.

Thinking about Brooklyn makes his head hurt.

…

They leave the next day, everything shoved in the back of a car Wade procured from somewhere the Soldier knows better than to ask about. For all the Soldier has learned about movies and TV, he hasn’t been exposed to a lot of music, so Wade uses the opportunity to fix this. He starts in the forties and works his way forward. The first songs are familiar. He dislikes the fifties, Elvis aside. The Beatles are solid, the sixties interesting as a whole, but it’s the rock music from  the seventies and eighties that gets him singing along.

“You need to buy me an iPod,” he says. 

Wade makes a fond snorting sound. “Moocher.”

A song called Bohemian Rhapsody comes on. It makes no sense, but it is amazing. His brain has been programmed to memorize orders and mission details. He puts it to better use burning the lyrics into his memory.

“Again,” he says to Wade when it’s over.

“I need to teach you manners,” Wade mutters. He’s been saying that since the first week, but it’s an empty threat. Wade is worse than he is. Besides, they don’t need to be polite with each other. They’re former-lab rat brain damaged ex-assassins who’ve cried on one another and also watched all seven seasons of Golden Girls together. There’s a point where politeness is no longer necessary, and they crossed it fifty four sex jokes about Bea Arthur ago.

“You can take your manners and shove ‘em where the sun don't shine,” the Soldier says.

Wade laughs and presses the rewind button. “You’re so adorable when you use slang.”  

The Soldier ignores him. “What’s this song about anyway?”

“I dunno. A guy who kills someone. Y’know, pulled the trigger now he’s dead?”

“I’d say that brings back memories, but well…”

“You’re joking about your dark ugly past!” Wade cries, gleeful. “It helps, doesn’t it? It _totally_ helps.”

“This song helps.” He throws his head back and tries to match the singer’s tone. Or pitch. Whatever the hell it’s called. “ _I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy-”_

Wade ruins it. His voice is like rocks rubbing against one another. Also, he tries to use a falsetto. “ _Because I’m easy come, easy go-”_

Doesn’t mean it’s not fun to sing along. “ _Little high, little low-”_

Good god. This is the most horrible duet ever. Dying cats would do better. _“Anyway the wind blows doesn’t really matter to me… To me!”_

Music is his new favorite thing. Above Pop-Tarts. And Animal Planet.

_“Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head. Pulled my trigger, now he’s dead!”_

“Never understood the point of putting a gun to someone’s head,” the Soldier says. “If you’re gonna get that close, save yourself the mess and break his neck.”

“Maybe he forgot arm day in the gym and can’t get enough force behind it. Now shush. You’re ruining it. We were being beautiful.”  

“You started laughing halfway through the killed a man line. That’s not beautiful. It’s fucked up.”

“You pointed out the relative messiness of killing with guns versus breaking necks!”

“We’re awful people.”

“ _Bro_ , just sing _._ ” 

“Not until you promise to stop trying to hit high notes.”

He goes past high. Up to “he can’t possibly have testicles.”

“ _Mama, ooh! Didn’t mean to make you cry!”_

The Soldier shakes his head and tries to mimic him.

He can’t believe that this has become his life.

…

Seven hours, three stops for Wade to use the bathroom – because the moron doesn’t _listen_ when the Soldier tells him not to drink eleven damned Yoo-hoos – and a meal at the sketchiest, most amazing diner in the universe (it's also the only diner the Soldier has ever been to in his memory, but he’s certain none in the future will ever compare) and they reach Brooklyn.

It is _wrong._

“I’ve been here before, and it wasn’t like this,” the Soldier says. He stares out the window. “I think Hydra had me for a long time.”

“You do say dames,” says Wade. “And bozo. And stuff. No one says that shit anymore.”

“There is that.” The Soldier doesn’t ask why Wade didn’t say anything. Wade doesn’t have the same priorities as other people. Probably he wouldn’t have thought it was important.

He would’ve liked a little warning though. Watching the wrong Brooklyn pass by outside his window shakes him.  

“You alright?”

The Soldier takes a deep breath. “I’ll have to be.”                      

“I’ll play “Don’t Stop Believing” again. That’ll make it better.”

“I thought you said that song was about a hooker.”

“It’s _catchy.”_

They listen to Journey the rest of the way to their new place. When the car slows, the last notes of “Any Way You Want It” are fading. The Soldier feels less like breaking. Wade’s says he wants to see Ellie before they do anything else,. That is acceptable. Maybe something to focus on will make the feeling of wrongness go away.

It’s funny, almost, how quickly the little girl comes running when Wade steps out of his car. “Daddy!”

She tackles him. Spaz. Apple must not fall far from the tree.

Wade scoops her into a hug. “Hey, Ellie.”

“You’ve been gone a _long_ time.”

“I’m sorry. I was helping a friend.”

The girl looks up, big brown eyes fixing on the Soldier. She is small and adorable, and the Soldier immediately wants to hug her. _Precious_ , Wade said.

The part of his mind that was once reserved for focusing on missions roars awake.

New Mission: Never let anything hurt Wade’s daughter.

Ever.

“You’re my dad’s friend?”

“Yeah.”  

She hugs him. It’s not annoying like the kind Wade gives. It’s nice. “He needs more friends. He gets lonely, y’know.”

“Not anymore. He’s stuck with me.” It’s true. Wade is his new HYDRA, in that the Soldier cannot imagine leaving him. But Wade is also different, because he does not make the Soldier stay. Wade is important to the Soldier because he is Wade. Not because he brainwashed the Soldier into thinking that way.

Ellie seems satisfied. “Good.” She holds out a hand. “I’m Ellie.”

He still can’t remember his own name. Guy With the Nice Ass never caught on. Wade usually calls him variations of bro. That’s fine with the Soldier. He likes the allusion to their closeness. Also, he agrees with what Wade said to Logan, about not wanting anyone to give him a random name, like he’s a stray dog that’s been brought in from the street. He’ll wait for a real one.

“Not sure who I am,” he says, shaking her hand. “Call me whatever you like. That’s what your dad does.”

Ellie’s brow furrows. “How can you not know who you are?”

“I was brainwashed by a bunch of bad guys.”

She looks thrown off for a moment, but seems to accept it as truth. “I watched a TV show like that once.”

“Gross. Sounds like you got your dad’s taste in shows.”

“Nah. Jeff had it on. He hogs the remote _all the time_. I like Animal Planet best.”

It’s probably embarrassing, the way his face lights up at that. “D’you watch the one with the Meerkats?”

“ _Yes._ Have you seen all the episodes?”

“Nah. I just watch whenever they come on.”

“But you know about Flower…?”

“I almost cried.”

“Me too!”

“Wade,” the Soldier says. “I’m gonna adopt your daughter.”

She’s still standing close from the hug and the handshake. All big eyes and white teeth and too much hair. Brooklyn is different. He’s temporally displaced or whatever Wade called it. But this, this makes coming here worth it. _So worth it._

He thinks he’s a little bit in love already.

…

Agent Preston is not as trusting as Ellie. She’s nervous about a former assassin being around Wade’s daughter. Probably even more nervous about him meeting her son. Jeff. The one Ellie says hogs the remote.

The Soldier sees this and keeps his distance at first, but when he takes his jacket off, Jeff’s eyes go huge _._ The Soldier is wearing a short-sleeved shirt. He thinks it’s a mistake until the boy rushes over for a better look at the metal arm. Even Ellie wanders closer, eyes wide.  

Agent Preston looks terrified. “Jeff, Ellie…”

“It’s alright, ma’am,” the Soldier says. He wonders where in the hell the ma’am came from. Thinks it’s because this is the sort of woman who deserves a ma’am. “I don’t know what Wade has told you-”

“Almost everything.”

That would explain the wariness. “-but I’m… not dangerous. Not to them.” He believes it. He hadn’t before, but now that he’s here, he knows he wouldn’t hurt the kids. He might fuck up or have flashbacks or something and accidently hurt Wade or Agent Preston, but not the kids.

Jeff runs a finger down where the Soldier’s biceps would be if he had them. “Can you feel it when I do that?”

“The pressure, yeah. Not the warmth.” He holds out the hand so that Jeff can see the black glove covering the palm. “There are sensors in this that make my hand more sensitive than the rest. But it’s still not the same.”  

“What happened to your arm?”

It’s not a comfortable question, but he doesn’t dwell on it. Kids are like this. He knows that, somehow. Thinks he spent a lot of time with them at some point. “Dunno.”

“He was brainwashed, so there’s lots of stuff he doesn’t remember.” Ellie sounds proud that she’s aware of something Jeff isn’t.

“Cool.”

“Jeff…” Preston says, like she’s warning the kid not to poke at a rabid dog. Then she seems to realize that she’s being rude, and sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“A mother? It’s fine.”  

“He tried to tell me this was a bad idea,” Wade says. “Has no trust in himself really, but look! They love him. More than me even-”

“Daddy.” Ellie makes a point of walking away from the Soldier’s arm to hug her father. The Solder wants to give her cookies for it. Wade was right to come here. She’s good for him. He can tell already.

Jeff stays with the Soldier. “Is it stronger than your other arm?”

“Grab on.” Jeff does. The Soldier lifts him off the floor, Jeff hanging from it like he’s dangling off the monkey bars on a playground.

“ _Dude_ ,” he says. Then he frowns. “Is that a kitty sticker?”

“Wade’s fault.”

“I have cooler ones.” Jeff lets go and lands in a crouch. Like a little ninja. The Soldier is impressed. “Can I…?”

The Soldier nods. “As long as it’s better than the cat, you can add as many stickers as you want.”

“Hey!” Wade says.

“You have really long hair for a boy,” says Ellie, her attention back on him. “D’you think I could-”

No.

“No,” he says.

She does this _thing_ with her eyes. He has a better idea of why Wade usually gives him what he wants if he stares long enough, although he can’t imagine he’s half as effective as the girl.

“I have hair ties and stuff, and I’m _really_ good at braiding. Emily taught me how.”  

Five minutes later, he’s sitting in front of the couch while Ellie braids his hair and adds colorful streaks with an instrument of torture. Jeff has seated himself in the Soldier’s lap and is debating which Star Wars stickers should join the kitty on the metal arm. Agent Preston no longer looks distrustful, although the smile on her face is vaguely insulting. She’s looking at him with a sort of indulgent fondness that makes him feel about five years old.

Wade takes pictures on his phone. The Soldier flips him off when the kids aren’t looking.

“You’re so pretty,” Ellie says, running her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t usually like touching people, even when it’s Wade, but this isn’t bad.

“He’s not _pretty_ ,” says Jeff. “He’s cool.”

He feels too close to bursting into tears to be cool. This is… this is something _._ He doesn’t feel empty or useless right now. Doesn’t feel like Hydra’s pet. There’s an awareness at the back of his mind that he doesn’t deserve this, that these kids shouldn’t be anywhere near him, but it’s canceled out by the sense of rightness that’s washed over him. What he’s doing here with Ellie and Jeff is making them happy and making kids happy is a _good thing._

“It sounds like Wade has really been taking good care of you,” Agent Preston says while the kids argue over whether the Soldier is cool or pretty.

The Soldier tries not to smile like a goober. “He has. I needed a lot of watching at first, but he managed. Didn’t get forgetful or become too spazzy until I was good enough to handle it. You know him, yeah? Know how big that is?”  

Wade coughs. “Bro…”

“He’s a good man,” Preston says warmly.

Ellie tugs on the Soldier’s hair and ruins the moment.

“Ow!” he says as a reflex, never mind that he could get his leg cut off and only barely let it register.  

“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound it.

The door opens. The Soldier determines how long it’ll take to eliminate the newcomer if he turns out to be a threat.

It is unnecessary.

“Honey,” says Agent Preston, eyes warm.

The man drops a briefcase in the doorway and smiles back at her.

“He shot me in the butt once,” Wade whispers.

“He’s your dad?” the Soldier asks Jeff. Jeff nods. The Soldier says, “I like your dad.”

He likes Shane Preston even more when he walks into the room, sees the Soldier, and glares him down, even with his metal arm all exposed and scary. Or maybe not so scary, because it’s now covered in stickers, including the stupid cat one that won’t come off. And he has pink and orange streaks in his hair. Plus at least three braids, one of which he’s pretty sure is sticking straight up on top of his head.

Okay. Maybe it’s not surprising the guy has the audacity to glare.

“Wade,” Shane says, a little cautiously. Then, even more so: “Wade’s… friend?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay,” Agent Preston says. “Wade’s judgment was… remarkably solid on this one.”

Shane Preston trusts his wife. His mouth makes a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

There are so many people. So many _friendly_ people. It’s overwhelming, but not in a bad way. Just in a way that makes it a little hard to breathe. Or think. Or talk.

“You too,” he manages. Ellie seems to sense his discomfort.

“Daddy, can I take him to my room? I wanna show him my books.”

“Books,” Jeff says disgustedly.

“Sure, Ellie. That’s fine.”

They flee. Or it feels like it, even though they don’t physically run away from anything. The Soldier’s chest decompresses a little with every step they take away from the room full of people. By the time he’s standing in the doorway of what’s clearly a small girl’s room, all pink and yellow with toys scattered everywhere, he’s alright.

“Jeez,” he says, taking in the room. “You’ve got... eclectic tastes.” There are plastic guns and footballs and other “boy” toys scattered with Barbies and pink, cuddly stuffed animals.

“I’m multifaceted,” she says, annunciating the word in a way that says she’s probably copying adults who’ve used it to describe her.

“These are neat.” He picks up one of the guns. It’s pretty clever. Plastic, and with pellets that wouldn’t actually hurt anything. He commits its presence to memory and resolves to revisit the room if he’s ever bored.  

“Daddy got them for me for Christmas,” Ellie says. “Now come here. My books are cooler.”   

The Soldier follows her to the bookshelf. Most of the volumes are thin, although there are several chapter books. A few _big_ chapter books.

“Harry Potter,” she explains. “Emily helps me with those, although she made me stop on the third one. She says we’ll do the rest when I’m older.”

“Huh.”

“I’ve tried reading the fourth one anyway,” she adds meaningfully. “But it’s hard without her to explain or help with the big words…”

He pulls out the fourth book. “C’mere. The way your dad’s talking, I’ll be here plenty long enough to help you finish this monster. It’ll be our little secret.”

Her _grin._ God. It makes life worthwhile.

He sits on the floor in front of her bed, and she cuddles right up next to him. “Can you do voices? Emily does voices.”

_“You’ll do voices, right? Stories aren’t no good without voices.”_

_“Yeah, you gotta do voices!”_

_“I’ll love you forever if you do voices.”_

He blinks. Those are new ones. When he concentrates, he can just barely imagine them. Dark-haired and blue-eyed, all of them precious. _Sisters._ He’d had sisters.

He pulls Ellie closer and swallows heavily.

“Of course,” he says. “Stories aren’t no good without voices.” He clears his throat and begins, “The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it “the Riddle House,” even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there…”

Wade comes in after a while and settles himself on Ellie’s other side, and Jeff soon follows, not wanting to be left out. Agent Preston pokes her head in just long enough to glare once she sees the book title, but there’s a smile on her face as she turns away. It’s nice. Fun even. Especially after Wade tells him the characters are British, and it turns out that the Soldier knows how to perfectly mimic a British accent.

He even laughs once, when Jeff screws up his face trying not to laugh at the Soldier’s Voldemort impersonation.  

He doesn’t know why he knows Brooklyn, but right then, he decides it wouldn’t be a bad place to call home.


	5. Chapter 5

Ellie lets the Soldier borrow the first three Harry Potter books so he can catch up before he gets too far into the fourth. Wade catches him when he’s halfway through the first one and asks if he can read too. They end up holding the book between them and taking turns on the paragraphs. Eventually they realize how stupid that is, because duh, books need consistent voices, so they work out a system. Wade narrates because he makes even the boring bits more interesting. The Soldier gets the dialogue for Harry and Ron and Hermione. Wade gets everyone else.

They get a little obsessive, spending the whole day reading the damned kid’s books. Funny voices aside, the Soldier enjoys them. He especially likes Harry. Small and scrappy and always rushing into fights. Like Steve.

Ellie comes over that afternoon and demands he read to her while she redoes his hair. It’s a little tricky, getting into the fourth book again when they’re only halfway done with the second, but he and Wade manage after a bit.

The three of them – because Jeff isn’t patient enough to sit still and listen to Harry Potter – keep up the routine until the fourth book is done. They all get a little emotional when Cedric dies, and the Soldier acknowledges that yeah, maybe they shouldn’t have read the book to a nine-year-old, but Ellie recovers quickly and demands she be read the fifth.

In the meantime, Agent Preston pushes them into doing family stuff _._ They go to the zoo once, which the Soldier loves. He and Ellie and Wade act like they’re about five, while Jeff follows with a look on his face like they’re a bunch of idiots. There are _meerkats_ though, and monkeys, and funny lizards.

“Do you have enough money to buy a zoo?” the Soldier asks when they stop at an ice-cream parlor afterwards.

“Probably not,” says Wade.

The Soldier wishes he had not had his Pokemon epiphany, because he’s tempted to suggest they get in touch with some of Wade’s contacts to find enough work to fund that particular cause.

The weekend after, they go to a carnival, which doesn’t go quite as well. The Soldier refuses to go on the rides, because why would he want to be strapped into a place from which he couldn’t escape? He likes the rigged competitions slightly better, and he wins Ellie a giant bear and Jeff a picture of a football player he likes, but it’s more crowded than the zoo and the carnies are odd enough to make him nervous.

Wade is happy though, so that’s a plus. And the Preston couple lingers back with him while his friend takes the kids on the rides.

They also see a movie together. The Soldier insists on watching from the very back corner of the theater. Darkness and lots of people are not an acceptable combination, and he needs the vantage point to properly observe the Prestons. Well, and Wade. But Wade isn’t small and vulnerable like the kids. The Soldier places him second on the list of priorities in event of an attack. Logical, but difficult.

Actually, it’s difficult to reprioritize a lot of things now that it isn’t just him and Wade. Sometimes it’s confusing, balancing the kids and the Preston couple with his friendship with Wade, especially because he knows Wade _wants_ the Soldier to see Ellie as more important, which messes everything up because Wade deserves to be _someone’s_ top priority.

He’s actually a little relieved when Wade suggests they go out and do something, just the two of them, because it means he doesn’t have to worry about balancing his conversations or protecting Ellie and Jeff but not guarding Wade quite as closely.

Also, he likes the break from all the people.

They end up taking a walk through Brooklyn. It’s Wade’s idea.

The Soldier recognizes things, even if none of it feels quite right. Agent Person says some of his slang suggests he grew up around the 1930s.

If he’d been to Brooklyn – and he’s increasingly sure he has – it would’ve changed a lot.

“I’ve been getting stuff back,” he says. It hadn’t felt important before, but there’s time to talk now, and his memories are becoming more tangible. They feel like things that happened to _him_ , instead of scenes from a movie. “I had a friend named Steve. Three sisters. My ma got on me for cursing. I think – I think I know Brooklyn.”

“Huh,” Wade says, but he looks surprised. He takes a moment to get his serious face on, and then he says, “Sisters, huh?”

“Yeah. They made me read her stories with voices. Like Ellie.”

“Makes sense,” he says. “And Steve?”

“He’s like Harry Potter. Scrawny and stupid. He’s… he’s a hero.” If Agent Preston is right about how old he is. Steve is probably dead by now. “ _Was_ a hero.” It hurts to say. He loved Steve in the way he loves Wade. All warm and brotherly but with sharp edges of teasing and insults.

The best kind of love.

“You’d like Steve,” he adds. Then: “I think he’d be skeptical about us, though. He was… good. Wouldn’t like some of the stuff we’ve done.” He thinks about it. Tacks on, “We’d grow on him though.” _Maybe._

Probably not. He’s a bad person now. And Wade is alarming.

Still. Steve was open-minded. Even if they scared him, he’d try to play nice. Would even be convincing about it. But it wouldn’t be the same.

“We grow on everyone,” Wade says. The Soldier is relieved to be torn from his thoughts. “Look at the Prestons. They love us.”

“Love me, maybe. Shane still thinks you need a muzzle.” They turn a corner, and he slows, something feeling familiar, but there’s only apartment buildings…

It hits him, and he stops. Stares.

“Fuck no.”

“What?”

“There’s a baseball stadium here. _Was._ Ebbets Field. What the hell? Where’d the Dodgers go?”

“The Dodgers are in Los Angeles. The only New York teams are the Yankees and the Mets.”

What – the – fuck.

“I can’t even.”

“Don’t see what the big deal is,” says Wade. “No one likes baseball anymore. Anyone would tell you football’s better.” 

The Soldier repeats himself. “I can’t even.”

“You okay?”

“Fine. I just died inside. This is – I need a… a Brooklyn Dodgers jersey. Do they still make ‘em?”

“Probably somewhere.”

“I gotta get one. Show these people what a real baseball team it.”

“I should shoot you. _Baseball._ Really? If I had to watch a bunch of guys swinging sticks and batting balls, I’d find gay porn.”

They turn a corner. The Soldier is spluttering, unsure of how to react to that, but Wade perks up before he gets the chance to respond. “Hawkeye!”

A man in jeans and a purple hoodie looks up and freezes. His face says he’s trying to find an excuse to run away. He must not think of anything, because he sighs and walks over. “Wilson, and…” He frowns. “I don’t know you.” 

“This is my bro,” Wade says. He puffs out his chest, like that’s something to be proud of.

Wade is wearing his suit, but Hawkeye must know about the scars because he says, “Not seeing the family resemblance.”

The Soldier decides he doesn’t like Hawkeye.

“Yeah,” he says pointedly. “Wade got the looks. I got the skill with sharp, pointy objects.”

It’s almost funny, how quickly Hawkeye adjusts his stance. From patronizing to interested; defensive, but curious. It’s probably the Soldier’s paranoia talking, but it seems like the guy is wondering how Wade convinced someone to stand up for him. But Wade seems oddly taken with Hawkeye, and he isn’t entirely lacking in judgment. The Soldier tries his best not to write him off completely.

“Point taken. I’ll lay off Wilson.” Hawkeye holds out a hand. It’s more annoying than when Ellie did it. “Clint Barton.”

He doesn’t want to introduce himself as no one. Not to this guy, who doesn’t respect Wade. He doesn’t want to embarrass his friend by revealing he’s walking with _nobody_ , so he uses a name that both does and doesn’t describe the person he is currently.

“The Winter Soldier.”

His job had been to make sure no one knew he existed, so he doesn’t expect a reaction. Therefore it’s both concerning and satisfying when Barton yanks his hand back like he’s worried the Soldier will cut it off. 

“You’ve got a name as badass as the Winter Soldier, and you haven’t told me?” Wade says. “That’s not cool, man.”

“It doesn’t…” He tries to think of how to explain it. “It’s a _title._ Not a name.”

“I don’t believe you,” Barton splutters. “You’re lying.”

The Soldier takes his left hand out of the pocket of his sweatshirt and gives a cheerful wave.

The intimidation factor is probably majorly shorted out by the sparkling bracelet Ellie gave him yesterday. She made it herself.

Barton’s eyes fixate on that first. Of course. “What.”

While he’s searching for words, Wade explains Barton to the Soldier.

“Hawkeye used to be into some sketchy stuff, but he’s a good guy now. He works for the people Emily works for. I went trick-or-treating at his house last Halloween and he gave out tiny candy bars, but then we were awesome together so it’s cool. We were like, epic teammates of epicness. Also, I like his dog.”

“Everyone likes Lucky,” Barton says automatically. He shakes his head. “You’re _sure_ you’re the Winter Soldier? Because you shot a friend of mine, and when she talked about you, she didn’t mention the unicorn bracelet or purple hair-” Aw, shit. Yeah. He’d forgotten to wash that out. He was gonna kill Ellie. “Or the… is that a _Yoshi_ sweatshirt?”

“It goes with the t-shirt.” Barton still looks confused. “He’s my Mario Kart character.”

“What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry about your friend,” the Soldier adds honestly. At least he’s sorry he shot someone. Not specifically Barton’s friend because he has no idea who she is. “Probably doesn’t mean much, but I wasn’t myself at the time. I’m guessing she’s…”

“Oh, no.” He takes a deep breath and manages to gather a little composure. “Tasha is fine. You weren’t aiming for her. More… through her. She’s got a nasty scar, but she’s alive. Thank god.”

He’s relieved about this. It makes things less awkward. He relaxes slightly, although the knowledge that he likely succeeded in his other kill doesn’t sit well. Makes his gut feel funny.

Barton seems to see this and tries to distract him. “You must be one hell of a sniper.”

He shrugs. “I’m alright.”

“Hawkeye shoots arrows,” says Wade, sounding vaguely hero-worshippy. “I bet you two would work super well together.”

Arrows. This is interesting. The Soldier eyes him speculatively.

“No offense, but whatever you two are up to, it’s probably not something I’d wanna be a part of.” 

“But he’s trying to be a good guy with me!”

Barton looks skeptical, and the Soldier manages a tight smile. “I am.” 

“How did you get on a redemption kick with Wilson?”

“He rescued me from HYDRA.”

“Rescued…” Barton says slowly. The Soldier expects questions, but instead Barton gets a look of dawning realization on his face, like an assassin being rescued from an evil organization makes perfect sense. Sympathy flickers across his expression, but he hides it quickly. To the Soldier’s relief, pushes the conversation forward. “And what? Now he colors your hair and gives you unicorn bracelets?”  

“That’d be ridiculous!” Wade says loftily. “My daughter does. You remember Ellie?”

Barton squeezes his eyes shut like this is all a terrible nightmare. “I try to forget that you procreated at all, but yeah. I remember. She complained about my candy. _Everyone_ complained about my candy. They were _fun_ -sized. Why does no one get that? _Fun_ means good!”

“Barton,” the Soldier says, “I’ve seen fun-sized candies. They’re insulting. It’s like, here’s a candy bar, but haha, not really.” Even though he’s very unsure of Barton, he sees that Wade wants Barton to like him and thinks maybe, if he could see Wade like he is when he’s (somewhat) stable and around people who ground him, he wouldn’t look like he wants to run away when they see each other in the street. “You should buy Ellie a cake. Make up for it.”  

Wade jumps on the idea. “ _Yes_! Ellie would be thrilled, and anyway, you totally owe her for the shitty candy.”

Barton shrugs.

“I’d say no, but honestly I wanna see the Winter Soldier chill out with a little girl. Can she do your hair again? I’d take pictures and send them to Tasha. That’d make up for you shooting her.”

“I’m really not the Winter Soldier,” the Soldier says.

“You said…”

“I said it’s a title. It’s not _me_. Now I’m… I’m just whoever. Until I remember my name.”

Barton seems to understand. “I’m sure I can think up a nickname or two. You think you’re gonna remember anytime soon?”

He does, actually. The memories haven’t been coming fast, but he almost feels like a person now. He’s gotten a sense of self again. A name would be the logical next step.

“Yeah,” he says. “Things are coming back. Can’t be too long until I get a name.”

“He’s already remembered liking baseball,” Wade complains.

“Ew,” Barton says.

“Primitives. Too stupid to appreciate perfection.”

“I like watching archery, and laughing at how bad everyone is.”

“You like that. Better than baseball.” He runs a hand through his hair. “We need to stop talking about this before someone gets hurt. C’mon, Barton. Let’s get Ellie a cake.”

“Now?”

“Wade likes you. I like making Wade happy. He’ll be happy if we’re hanging out and you’re not being an ass.”

“Aw, Winnie. That’s so sweet.”

“This is why I never tell you anything,” the Soldier says. 

“Sorry… Winnie.”

Goddammit. He’s created a monster.

…

Buying an “I’m sorry for my crappy candy” cake is harder than it looks.

“I want carrot,” the Soldier says.

“Go die in a hole,” Wade says.

“Seconded. We’re getting white.”

“Haha. That’s cute Hawkie. It’s crappy chocolate bars that you’re apologizing for, so it’s only natural that you make up for it with chocolate cake.”

“Carrot cake,” the Soldier insists. He hasn’t had carrot cake. Ever.

That he knows of.

But a gut feeling says someone had made him some once. As a special treat. His mom?

Yeah. There’d been cream cheese frosting, and he shared with Steve his sisters even though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He can almost recall how the nuts sprinkled in the frosting had given it just a bit of crunch. 

“Ellie likes chocolate,” Wade whines, his voice like nails on a chalkboard, shattering the memory.

The Soldier heaves a sigh. “Fine. Barton will buy Ellie chocolate, but I’m still getting carrot cake.” 

“I’m not wasting my precious money on a cake made of vegetables. It’s _perverse_!”

They’re kinda starting to make a scene, or at least Wade is because God forgot to install volume controls when the guy was born. The attention makes the Soldier’s back prickle. He puts a hand to his hip where he’s got a gun holstered, a knife slid into a strap he sewed onto the side of the holster, but it’s just for reassurance. A reminder that if the eyes on them _are_ malicious, he can make them regret it.

“I feel like we’re three gay guys picking out a wedding cake,” Barton says. “I mean, if polygamy wasn’t illegal.”

“I just went to a really happy mental place!” Wade sing-songs, and immediately throws one arm around the Soldier and another around Barton. The Soldier is getting better with touch, he _is_ , but there are occasional hugs and then there’s being manhandled.

Wade kisses the Soldier, puckering his lips out so he can feel them through the fabric of his mask.

“Barton,” growls the Soldier.

“Yeah,” Barton says, ducking Wade’s attempt to kiss him as well. “I regretted that one as soon as it was out of my mouth.”

“Who’d be the wife? Can I be the wife? I have all the pretty dresses!”

To Barton’s credit, he manages to keep a straight face. “The Soldier has purple hair and a unicorn bracelet. You can both be my wives.”

“Can we just get the damned cakes!? Carrot for me, with Wade’s money, and Barton can buy Ellie chocolate.”

“But I want vanilla,” Barton says.

“You could buy vanilla as well,” suggests the cashier, who looks torn between amusement and impatience.

Barton opens his mouth. Shuts it.

They get three cakes, each of them holding their preferred kind as they walk out of the bakery, looking like the three most badass gluttons in history. 

…

Ellie plus the Prestons are either working or at school, but Wade uses the spare key to unlock their door so they can put the cakes in the kitchen. It’s where they eat every night, and undoubtedly where they’re going to have supper with Barton.

For approximately six minutes afterwards, Wade chatters to fill what would otherwise be awkward silence. Barton had appeared fine before, but now it’s seemed to register that he’s willingly spending time with two very dangerous, somewhat unstable assassins. He looks back and forth between them with a look of cautious bewilderment on his face, like he’s suddenly teleported into the middle of a minefield and has no idea how he got there.

The Soldier isn’t comfortable either. Barton is the first true _stranger_ he’s met since waking. Wade never counted, and the kids accepted him so quickly he became something of an honorary member of the Preston family almost overnight. This is different. Hawkeye has no kids to ease the transition. He also takes no initiative to let the Soldier know what is wanted from him.

Then the Soldier gets an idea. He heads to Ellie’s room. Ducks inside and gathers all her Nerf guns into a tub.

Wade seemingly hadn’t noticed the Soldier was gone, but Barton looks up when he returns. His eyes are suspicious until he sees the toy guns. Then he grins. Wade follows his gaze, and even though he’s got his mask on, the Soldier can tell he’s thrilled.

“Permissible locations for battle are this house and Wade’s,” the Soldier says.

“The yards as well?” Barton asks.

“Yes.” He spreads the guns out across the floor so they can see the selection more closely. “Every combatant may take three weapons. Sustaining three hits is mission failure. Losers must prepare this evening’s meal as punishment. Acceptable?”

Barton nods. Wade bounces on the balls of his feet and beams. The weapons are selected. A minute is set for them to get into what they consider acceptable position. Then they begin.

Five hours, much crawling into filthy places, and an inordinate amount of swearing later, Wade defeats the Soldier by jumping out of a makeshift hiding place he created by peeling back floorboards in the Prestons’ attic. The Soldier had finished Barton twenty minutes previously. How _Wade_ won, out of two highly trained sharpshooters is beyond him. It is also impossibly grating.

“Are you done now?” Agent Preston asks archly. The family had wandered in halfway through. Ellie and Jeff thought there was too much stalking and not enough shooting going on. Shane and Emily maintained that there were acceptable ways for grown men to spend their time and holding Nerf wars was not one of them.

“Yup,” Wade chirps. “Winnie here dropped like a rock. Started crying. Begging for his mother. All that fun stuff.”

“He destroyed the floor of your attic,” the Soldier says.        

Agent Preston smacks the back of Wade’s head and starts chewing him out while Wade yelps protests. The Soldier smirks in vindictive glee, significantly less irritated as he plops onto the couch next to Ellie. Barton is on the floor, playing checkers with Jeff. He turns when the Soldier sits. “He got you, huh?”

“He _cheated_ ,” the Soldier says.

“My second hit came when he jumped off the roof to catch me. Broke his damned leg but managed to get away by locking me in the shed.” He shakes his head, looking impressed and disgusted all at the same time. “At least he’ll suffer for it, unless you’re a better cook than I am.”

“I make Pop-Tarts.”  

“We could order pizza,” Barton suggests. “Does that count?”

“ _No!”_ Wade cries. “You’re gonna cook. And I want you in aprons too. And funny hats.”

“I can help,” Ellie offers. “I know how to make eggs.”

The Soldier could kiss her. “Thank god. I can run the toaster. Barton, bacon?”

“Just throw it in the pan until it’s a little crispy, right?”

“We’ll go with that.”

The three of them converge upon the kitchen – thankfully without aprons or funny hats. Ellie can’t reach the counter to crack eggs, so the Soldier holds her up with his strong arm while she works, manning the toaster with the other. Wade moans about not wanting breakfast for dinner, and Barton threatens to cut out his vocal chords.

“They’d just grow back,” Ellie says, sounding so proud of Wade that it makes the Soldier want to smile. Even if Wade is a jerk who cheats at Nerf wars.

“I could use arrows,” Hawkeye says. “Can’t grow back around an arrow.”

The Soldier snags an apple off the counter and throws it at his head. Barton catches it without having to look.

“What was that for?”

“This conversation. Wade doesn’t get hurt.”

Wade grins. “Aren’t scary assassin buddies great, Hawkie? Although, I’m a bit disappointed I didn’t get the model with b–” He glances at Ellie. “Uh, I mean, a nice – no, that’s offensive too, um… pretty eyes.”  

“Nice save,” Barton drawls.

“I want to meet Clint’s assassin buddy,” Ellie says. “I like assassin buddies.”

“We need to have a talk about how to tell good assassin buddies from bad assassin buddies,” Wade says seriously. He dances into the kitchen and tries to snag a piece of bread, but Ellie beats him off with a spoon. The Soldier can’t stifle a grin when Wade steals her away, threatening revenge.

Barton glances at the Soldier.

“You… you got pretty damned lucky,” he says, serious for the first time.

The Soldier finds it harder to smile about things he really feels. Instead, he looks at Wade and the Prestons and manages a strangled sort of nod.

“Yeah,” he says.

Barton smiles like he understands.

Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to spoil Clint's appearance by explaining him earlier, but if you're confused by him knowing Wade, he's a blend of comics and MCU Hawkeye. Imagine a pre-Avengers movie Hawkeye, who's living Matt Fraction Hawkeye's life as a SHIELD agent instead of an Avenger. If that makes sense.


End file.
